Why is It ?
by Witch fang
Summary: It's not quite a question, or even a conversation, but there's the hint that maybe there could be. Vimes/Vetinari


**Just a short ficlet that I may or may not update. It depends, how nice are you prepared to make your reviews?**

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Why is it…?

The oblong office was deathly quiet, the silence hanging in the frigid air like the hang mans' noose. Vimes prickled, still unable to understand the sudden drop in temperature. Was it something he said? Looking at the man in front of him Vetinari appeared unchanged, his face as pallid and poker-faced as ever. So why was he hit with the strange sinking feeling that the ledge he was just standing on was now creaking like it was about to fall through.

"Sir?"

The sharp look Vetinari gave him was one you could have cut glass with. Your face should have its own dictionary Vimes thought, feeling like he should take a step back, you can say so much in one look.

"Do not let me detain you, Commander."

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Vimes nodded and turned on his heel still pondering why Vetinari had suddenly gotten so..frosty. he was on Marborough street when the words finally hit him.

"Damn it all." Vimes said, and turned around and sprinting so fast he could barely feel the cobbles under his feet. Stupid, he thought. The man reaches out one time and…

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Vetinari was sitting in his office, though brooding could really be a better term for it. He felt… well, he felt rejected for one. Of course it wasn't as if he'd been so bold as to ask the man to dinner or a tuppeny upright or, what was it for men? A cream tart? A hazel nut banna pastry? Well whatever frosted baked good it was, he had definitely made no such overturn. That would have been vulgar and cheapened Vimes in a way Vetinari had never had. He examined his words thoughtfully and the tone precisely in which he had said it. He hadn't phrased it in so many words maybe, but there had been a definite suggestion that perhaps a cup of tea wouldn't have been out of place. But the man had just stood there, looking like some sort of shocked aquatic animal, and then he'd dare to ask,

"Are you alright sir?"

Was he alright? No, no he was not alright because he was dealing with Sam Vimes for Gods sakes! A man who's very presence made his pace quicken and the world seem small and manageable and for just a moment not his responsibility. When Vimes was in the room, that's all there was to Vetinari. Himself, Sam Vimes and the room they were in. He wasn't the patrician of the mammoth and yearning Anhk Morpork, he wasn't a master assassin, hell he wasn't even the most feared man on the disk anymore. He was just…too Vimes, just another man who he had to nod too and occasionally utter that infuriating word "Sir." And while he loved that in the oafish, damn right stubborn man he also now loathed it. He was too lost in thought to hear the footsteps or Drumknotts shouting, "You do not have an appointment Commander!"

He did hear however, Vimes roughly growled reply "To hell I don't."

He had a moment to compose himself before the door was slammed roughly open and he was face to face yet again with a this time red faced and huffing Vimes. The two stared at each other over planes and planes of distance that was really only eight feet of carpet and a mahogany desk. There really should be a dictionary for your looks, Vimes thought for the second time that day, because the look Vetinari was leveling him was something you needed to know before you could put it into words. You couldn't describe it just by seeing it, and Vimes prayed to every deity he knew that he was reading this right.

"Yes."

"Yes what, Commander?"

"Yes I would like to go to dinner with you or lunch or even, bloody hell a Danish baked good, for gods sakes Vetinari don't look at me like that. Yes."

Vetinari didn't respond for a moment. Then, like the gradual way ice melts or seasons change, his expression flowed slowly and somehow into a half smile. And then he lifted one eyebrow in a signature move that was somehow so different it spoke volumes. Sam had no idea he'd been betting until he'd realized he'd guessed lucky and won. Vetinari then frowned a little, his brows creasing.

"Are you sure about this Seargent?"

Vimes swallowed and suddenly wasn't sure at all. A week ago he'd been an alcoholic. A few days ago he'd been having a very awkward tea with the duchess of anhk Morpork, an hour a go he'd just been asked to something like a date with the Patrician and now here he was presently accepting. He could only imagine what would happen moments from now. And he had given up on the liquor too, damn it all. There were some things though, that he could be sure of. His name for example.

"Sam."

The patricians eyebrow, if this was possible, somehow managed to convey an increased level of questioning without actually moving. "Sam?"

Vimes nodded, "Havelock."

Vetinari smiled and to Sam's own amazement actually began to chuckle lightly. "Sam. My schedule's clear on Tuesday, two to five. If you come here then I'll book us a carriage and somewhere to go. Somehwere with bacon." The patrician said smiling almost fondly.

Vimes didn't question how Vetinari knew about the bacon. "I, Well, okay si- Havelock."

The two stood still for a moment.

"Goodbye Sam."

Vimes, to his own dismay and absolute horror actually blushed and nodded swiftly, "Goodbye Havelock. I… I'll see you Tuesday."

Vetinari's smile said things that made Vimes turn so quickly and walk away so fast he thought he might have left a vapor trail. His ears were bright red.

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